Sweet Sinclair
Are you there, my old friend? Are you there, sweet Sinclair?
You are gone, I know not where. Are you there, sweet Sinclair?
We used to talk forever, from morning until night.
We used to weave our stories, of victory and plight.
Our days were filled with friendship, a friend only I could see.
No one could beat your smiles that were there for only me.
We took an oath of trust. Best friends, this noble vow.
But then you faded off in time. Do you watch me even now?
The children laughed and played, but not with me. It wasn’t fair.
I found in you my only friend. Are you there, sweet Sinclair?
My mother winked with understanding. “Does Sinclair join us for lunch?”
I smiled with innocent amusement. “We already met for brunch.”
My father sat at the table. “Am I in Sinclair’s seat?”
“No, he isn’t hungry.” Then we all sat down to eat.
I grew a little older, the children stayed just as cruel.
They mocked my clothes and feelings, as we made our way through school.
My parents, they would listen, but they felt it something small.
“They’ll grow out of it when they get older. You have nothing to worry at all.”
“Go and wash up for dinner.” I felt they didn’t care.
But where they didn’t, I knew you would, my loyal and sweet Sinclair.
“Be my friend forever?” I asked, the tears still in my eyes.
You whispered soft and soundless, “Yes, I will never say goodbye.”
The years went along, we talked a lot less. Age comes with lessons it brings.
My parents would shout “Enough is enough!” Time to put away childish things.
I found new friends, I made new stories, some were good and some were bad.
I think, now and then, of my constant companion. The greatest friend I ever did have.
My father grew tired, he gave weaker smiles. His cough made it hard to get around.
I talk to him still, much as I did to you then, as I stare at a stone in the ground.
I feel that I need you now, old friend. These new things are hard to bare.
But you are gone, I know not where. Are you there, sweet Sinclair?
Losing her own friend, my mother took time to live with this emotional scar.
I wonder, did she think of my father, as she met with a drunk driven car.
I sat there alone in a room made of white, doctors and nurses moving along.
I reached out for your presence until a man came to see me, and quietly told me “I’m sorry, she’s gone.”
There are two stones to talk to now, two stones etched with names.
Two people who I visit, in the sun and in the rain.
Where are you, Sinclair? I need you here, now more than ever.
You lied when you said once when we were younger, you’d be my friend forever.
I’ve said goodbye to father, goodbye to mother too.
When I lost my childhood purity, did I say goodbye to you?
Did I say goodbye to laughing, to carefree summer days?
Did I say farewell to hopes and dreams and accept these changing ways?
What did I do to lose my friend, is it a crime to grow a little older?
Where does it say to throw happiness away, to allow warm feelings to grow colder?
Are you there, my old friend? Are you there, sweet Sinclair?
You are gone, never coming back. Gone like my innocence. You are gone, sweet Sinclair.
Alexander L. Cecchetti is a 28 year old confused male living just outside of Baltimore in Randallstown Maryland. A lover and performer for the arts, he has been trained in musical theatre, acting and comedy at Essex, Towson and Peabody. After working in the Health and Fitness field for over 10 years as a personal trainer and membership manager, Alexander felt he needed a change and resigned from the industry. As he tries to figure out what that change is, Alexander spends much of his time writing, working on novels, poems and screen plays.
